


Crimson Fate

by Origingirl



Series: A Flickering Sun [2]
Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 06:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origingirl/pseuds/Origingirl
Summary: His episodes started small, but this curse just might prove to be a force that not even the most powerful magic can reverse. Luckily, Sinbad couldn’t be surrounded by more supporting and caring people. Hopefully, it’s not futile.





	Crimson Fate

A gentle pitter patter sounded through the palace halls as Jafar made his way to his kings' chambers. It was late, but Jafar always ensured Sinbads' health is at optimal levels before he lifts so much as a finger on the diplomatic floor. This scenario is particularly troubling. Jafar didn't know how to best take care of his kings' well being if the thing plaguing him is a curse.

The spells were initially small and unsuspicious enough.

Sinbad would come down with a light headache during a bill review or get an upset stomach when traveling abroad for meetings.

Small things like that where no one would suspect it being the result of something greater.

Then came the convulsions.

Sinbad had to physically remove himself from whatever he had been occupied with to lie down and center his breathing. This was much more abnormal, prompting Jafar to escort his king to a doctor, albeit they seemed just as stunned as the rest of the royal court.

Yamuraiha spent a full week conducting a series of magical healing ceremonies, which did suppress the pain for a while but did not do away with it permanently.

A look of worried curiosity formed on Jafars' face as he approached the entrance to Sinbads' room when recalling the series of events that took place up until now. Throughout all the spells, his king never once looked… well, he never truly looked concerned for himself.

His face never once warranted a thought of this illness being fatal or largely debilitating.

This infuriated Jafar, but more than that, it made him afraid; afraid that his king had… given up on himself in one way or another.

After getting no response from gently knocking on the simple wooden door, Jafar was quiet in opening it, not so much as a creek sounding off his presence.

It opened and… oh.

What a peculiar sight.

His king is indeed sound asleep, purple hair haphazardly askew across the velvet cushions and a peaceful expression adorning his features. His form lay limply… on top of Focalor, one of his seven djinns, who appeared to be in the same state of deep slumber.

Jafar, although perplexed at this abnormal scene, couldn't help but smile in relief. He knew Focalor above all his djinns has a special connection with Sinbad as far as the bond between djinn and king goes, so there was no safer place Sinbad could be in his hour of need after an especially harsh and unforgiving terror spell.

Jafar set down the items he had carried with him to give to Sinbad for him to heal from this spell quicker - a sack of herbs from his doctor and a bottle of healing dust from Yamraiha - before turning to face the two on the bed once more.

A part of Jafar yearned for Sinbad to take this much comfort in him as he did with Focalor during these recurring moments of crisis, but the ex-assassin didn't dare impose his selfishness on the man he owed his life to. 

Sinbad shifted then, hands coming up to wrap around Focalors’ neck and nuzzle his head into his chest before sighing contently. Sensing his kings' movement, Focalor in turn moved to embrace the man more fully, his own feather laced arms securing around Sinbads' waist.

Jafar smiled warmly. Focalor is clearly what Sin needs right now, and he is glad his king found such a compassionate and accommodating companion within this ethereal being.

Silently stepping up to the side of the bed, Jafar took the top of one disheveled blanket and drew it up and over their sleeping forms. His hand lingered a moment where Sinbads' bangs touched his forehead, feeling the silky texture of his kings' silk spun violet hair.

"Rest well, Sin." He whispered despite himself, unable to contain the bubbling affection he held for this man when looking at his normally composed face in an unstressed, peaceful state.

Turning on his heal for the door, Jafar nearly sprung out of his shoes when a low voice that wasn't Sinbads' answered from the bed.

"Thank you." it said, a soft sincerity shining through the slightly muffled tiredness of its tone.

Looking back towards the bed, Jafar could just barely make out two intense ocher eyes glinting in the darkened room like precious sardonyx stones.

He and Focalor, let alone the rest of Sins' djinns, had barely, if ever, conversed in the norm. Magoi surpluses only occured when Aladdin (and occasionally Yunan when he decided to visit) was either in especially good spirits or running through multiple training sessions with Yam and Alibaba. These surpluses lasted for only a few days after the initial burst of magoi occurs - one even spanned a whole two weeks - and during those days, Focalor didn't want to do anything other than spend time at his kings' side.

So even though Focalor knew of his kings' eight generals and the other members of his royal court, he wasn't exactly best friends with any of them.

Yet, still…

Jafars' throat suddenly felt dry.

When he heard the voice, initially, he instinctively though it'd either be his king rousing from sleep to meet whomever entered or worse - Focalor expressing displeasure at their moment together being ruined by another presence.

Jafar didn't outright fear any of his kings' djinns, but he isn't stupid. Baal, for one, could level an entire mountain range without doing so much as lifting a finger on his own. He could only imagine what Focalor is capable of if upset even just the tiniest bit.

Happy that he didn't evoke a sense of anger within the djinn after all, Jafar found it in him to merely nod politely in acknowledgement and then turn once again to excuse himself.

"He appreciates all you do for him. He's more grateful than you'll ever know." Focalor spoke in a half whisper.

Jafar rolled his eyes at that. Of course he knew Sinbad appreciated him. But… hearing that come from a person Sinbad specifically confides in during the time he's most vulnerable is… 

"I know he is." said Jafar, and then exited the room to go back to his own, a content smile on his face.

As Focalor lied there underneath the soft blanket with his king on top of him, feeling the mortal mans' gentle breaths against his skin, he felt at ease knowing that, despite any doubts his court may have, so many people cared and looked out for him.

He ghosted a hand down from his kings’ scalp to his lower back, feeling that marvelous purple hair thread through his digits on the way.

At what point, Focalor thought to himself, did Sinbad derail?

Not fully falling, yet halfway there. No wonder that magi from Kou had such a fascination with him, for that boys’ ruuk pulsed with a darkness of the likes not even Focalor has seen before.

But Focalor knew.

He knew that Sinbad would never in his lifetime allow himself to forsake his kingdom and close friends and allies.

Still…

A small shutter wracked through Sinbad just then, Focalor feeling it against his own body. He moved to gently turn the two of them on their sides with his king facing him. Drawing the blanket Jafar placed on them up closer to cover Sinbads’ neck, the djinn brushed the sides of Sins’ face in a melodic rhythm that soon made the small tremor subside and his kings’ breathing stabilize.

It may even take a lifetime to truly discover how to uncurse Sinbad.

But his king never really seemed all that troubled by it. Even when equipped, Focalor felt the constant air of nonchalant suaveness Sinbad developed as he grew into his prime, so he knew there was no facadé.

He is certain this troubled Sins’ courtiers and generals - the fact that the one plagued laughs in the illnesses’ dark void of a face. But despite the usual aura of ‘all is well’ that surrounds his king, Focalor also knew how dead serious Sinbad could be.

They needn’t worry, and neither should he.

And yet…

Foclaor posessively drew his king closer, planting a soft kiss atop the mans’ forehead as a wave of grim fear washed over him.

_Just how much more does Sinbad think his mortal body and mind can take?_


End file.
